The Stars That Were There Before
by illuminata79
Summary: A big event brings various challenges, surprises and encounters for Mick. A story in three chapters.
1. Chapter 1

Mick and Evelyn are headed towards a big event and some interesting encounters.

Not much commentary on this story upfront, just a title song:

_**Leonard Cohen - Dance Me To The End Of Love**_

_Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin  
>Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in<br>Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove  
>Dance me to the end of love<br>Dance me to the end of love_

_Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone  
>Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon<br>Show me slowly what I only know the limits of  
>Dance me to the end of love<br>Dance me to the end of love_

_Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on  
>Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long<br>We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above  
>Dance me to the end of love<br>Dance me to the end of love_

_Dance me to the children who are asking to be born  
>Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn<br>Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn  
>Dance me to the end of love<em>

_Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin  
>Dance me through the panic till I'm gathered safely in<br>Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove  
>Dance me to the end of love<br>Dance me to the end of love  
>Dance me to the end of love<em>

* * *

><p>Annie, already decked out in a white lace-trimmed dress and a circlet of orange blossoms and feathery greens, had climbed onto a stool behind me and watched me carefully as I knotted my tie.<p>

I caught her eye in the mirror and gave her a wink, which made her laugh.

Evelyn, meanwhile, was fiddling with the white rose boutonniere on my suit jacket that was still waiting on its hanger, muttering angrily under her breath, "Oh rats … I was just trying to set that damn thing straight, and now it looks worse than before!"

"Mommy said a bad word!" Annie cried out and broke into another fit of the giggles.

"Uh … you never heard a thing, Annie, did you?" Evelyn's face had gone slightly pink, and she turned her attention back to the offending object, holding it out at arm's length. "Gosh, I really don't have any talent for things like that. Just look at this!"

"Well, I'm fine with it as it is", I said as I turned around, took the jacket off her and shrugged into it. The white rose on the lapel looked perfectly fresh and neat to me among its little nest of greens and baby's breath. "What do you think, Annie?"

„You're looking strange, Daddy!" Annie exclaimed, chuckling, excitedly rocking on the balls of her feet atop her stool.

"Strange." I took a deep breath and looked at Evelyn, pretending to be stung. "Annie thinks I'm looking strange in a suit."

"Yes, you look strange", she said with another bubbly little-girl laugh. "Beautiful-strange."

"Thanks, sweetie, very reassuring", I said. "And what about Mommy in that dress?"

"Mommy is beautiful, too."

"Oh, goody!" Evelyn laughed and squeezed Annie's shoulder. "Will you please get down off that stool now before you fall and hurt yourself?"

"I won't hurt myself! I'm a big girl!" she protested indignantly.

"Yes, and a very pretty one, too", I said. "But you really better come off that thing now. Let's not take any chances. You can't be a flower girl with a bloody nose, and anyway, it's high time for us to leave. We've both got a job to do and can't possibly be late."

I grabbed her round the waist, deposited her safely on the floor and bent to kiss her on the cheek before she could complain.

She paid me back with a couple of loud, wet smacks and obediently came with me, her little hand in mine, jabbering ceaselessly as we walked down the carpeted hotel corridor.

"Haven't you forgotten something?" Evelyn called from behind.

"Daddy! You almost forgot the seahorse!" Annie scolded. "Good that Mommy noticed!"

Evelyn caught up with us, passing me my old mahogany cane with the seahorse handle, and I smiled a little wryly, weighing it in my hand. I hadn't needed that thing in a long while, but I had brought it along just to be on the safe side. I didn't want to take any risks at an occasion like this, well aware I wouldn't get a second chance if I screwed it up.

We got into the car that was already waiting outside, and Annie fidgeted giddily all the way to the church, while both Evelyn and I were filled with happy anticipation but also a little tense about what lay ahead.

I fingered the elaborate seahorse carving and couldn't help wondering once again if this was a good idea.

When she had asked me, my first impulse had been to say no, but I had sensed how much it meant to her and bitten it back, and finally, after some deliberation, I had acquiesced because her heart seemed so very much set on it. I had, however, insisted on taking the cane so I wouldn't make the kind of big entrance I had made at a similar occasion, when I had lost my footing on the marble floor and not actually fallen but banged noisily into the next pew for everyone to see and hear.

The church was barely a ten minutes' drive from the hotel. As she spied the steeple from afar, Annie squealed, "Is that it? Is that where the wedding will be?"

"Yes, darling, that's it", Evelyn said and tucked a stray curl behind Annie's ear before she reached over and stroked the back of my hand with her thumb. "Are you nervous, Mr. Carpenter?"

"A bit", I admitted. "What if I slip and fall in the aisle after all and ruin everything?"

"You won't slip, and you won't fall, and you certainly won't ruin anything. You'll do just fine." She leaned over behind Annie, lifted my hand to her face and brushed it with her lips. "You'll be perfect."

The flower-lined square outside the church was almost deserted when we climbed out of the car. Only one young couple of latecomers, in a festive suit and dress respectively, were hurrying towards the entrance just as the bells began to ring solemnly.

There was a small building to one side of the square, a kind of parish hall or whatever they called it. The door flew open when we were about to walk past, and a young woman in a pale blue bridesmaid's dress waved to us. "Over here, please!"

I recognized her face, but it took me a second or two to remember her name. Nora … no, Nola. Nola Kennedy.

"Hello, Nola. Good to see you. Got everything under control?"

"Absolutely. Come on in, we still have a couple of minutes to go."

I entered the smallish vestibule, where four other girls in pale blue flocked around the radiant bride.

My breath caught in my throat when I caught sight of my little sister in her wedding dress.

She had chosen the kind of clean and deceptively simple cut that suited her so well, with a tight bodice and a full pleated skirt that both brought out her slender build, and she wore no veil, just a few lovely orange blossoms tucked into her swept-up hair.

"Mick!" she cried out when she glimpsed me. "You're looking gorgeous!"

"Hey, don't go stealing my lines, Jessie!" I replied, laughing. "I was going to say that to you! You're the absolute queen of the day, and not just because you're in that dress. All the guys are gonna be terribly jealous of Oliver."

"And all the gals are gonna be terribly jealous of Evelyn!" She gave me a wink that couldn't quite hide her nervousness.

One of the girls, who had positioned herself at the door, signaled to us that it was time now.

"Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be. I can't believe I'm about to get married." She batted her eyelids comically and took my arm with a quizzical smile.

Nola handed Annie her little basket of rose petals and gave some last instructions to Ben, the boy who carried the rings on a small satiny cushion, and off we went across the square and through the pointed faux-Gothic arch of the church portal.

The organ heralded our arrival with the first rousing notes of an elated minuet, which made me smile, for I recalled how Jess had made quite clear to Oliver that she did _not_ intend to march down the aisle to Wagner's hackneyed _Lohengrin_ tune. She had chosen this beautiful, uplifting piece by some little-known French composer instead. It was joyful and exhilarating and not at all pompous and thus suited Jess perfectly.

I wasn't too sure how well I fitted the picture, but I did my best, slowly proceeding down the gleaming marble floor, the tap of my cane with every other step fortunately drowned out by the music.

Heads turned, and I was pretty certain there was quite a bit of whispering and murmuring going on, what with the bride's brother reappearing out of the blue, and him, not her father, the one to lead her down the aisle, despite an obvious disability.

Annie, for her part, was clearly enjoying her duties. She was walking ahead of us gravely, gleefully dishing out generous handfuls of petals left and right, so generous that the leather sole of my right shoe slipped on a clump of them.

For a dizzy split second, my mind went blank with panic, until I felt Jess's hand grip my arm tighter and her body shift slightly towards me. Between her and the cane, I managed to regain my balance quickly.

I thanked the heavens for small mercies, and for nearly a decade of experience in narrowly avoiding accidents, and concentrated even harder on seeing this through until the end with as much grace and style as I could muster.

The aisle seemed to be endless, but I managed to deliver Jess safely to her place by Oliver's side and gratefully settled into the pew where Evelyn was already waiting, right behind Janie and her family.

She gave me a smile and that familiar look that was her way of asking if I was alright.

I smiled a 'yes' back at her and relaxed a little, now that I had done my bit without getting my feet tangled in the train of Jess's gown and shamefully landing on my backside.

While the congregation was singing the last verse of a hymn I didn't recognize, I looked at the back of Janie's head, her blond curls arranged impeccably beneath a little royal blue hat. Brian and Kevin, as I knew her sons were called, stood at attention to both sides of her.

Were they always like that, those nephews I hadn't been aware I had? I hoped for their sake that this was just a one-off display of best behavior to honour the occasion. And I hoped I'd get a chance to talk to them later in the day.

Jess had wanted all of us to meet a couple of days before the wedding, to catch up with each other and to get acquainted with our respective partners and families, but Janie had declined on some lame pretext.

I was pretty certain my baby sister hated me.

She had stubbornly kept her eyes trained ahead while everyone else turned their heads to watch the arrival of the bride, and the way she held herself, stiffly erect in her royal blue silk dress and matching jacket, refusing to cast the tiniest glance over her shoulder, spoke volumes.

I shifted my focus to Jess and Oliver as the minister began to speak. This was not the moment to dwell on that little drop of bitterness.

Jess had her head tilted to one side the way she used to do when she was a child, listening to a story I was telling. I smiled at the discovery that this little mannerism of hers was still around, while I felt a deep regret that I had missed so much of my sisters' lives.

It was surreal to see her standing there, about to get married to a fellow doctor, when it felt like only yesterday that she had been a skinny grade-school kid, with white socks forever slipping south on sticklike legs and long brown braids that had a tendency to come apart.

All of a sudden, my little sister was a pretty young woman with a university degree, almost as tall as her husband-to-be and slender bordering on lean, with glossy brown hair much like Mom's and a kind of colt-like grace to her lanky figure.

When the moment came, she said "I do" in a determined, resonant voice.

I felt a surge of inexplicable pride that Jess hadn't turned out one of those dainty, mannered creatures who stage-whispered the words with artificial breathlessness. She was straightforward, unaffected and clever. I hoped Oliver knew just what a lucky man he was to have her for a wife.

After they had taken their vows, two friends of the newlyweds gave a beautiful rendition of a Mozart aria. I felt a little shiver running down my spine watching Jess grip her new husband's hand and flash him a big bright smile.

She looked so happy, and so beautiful, that I found myself touching a fingertip to the corner of my eye, hoping to brush away the sudden wetness without Evelyn, or anyone else, noticing what I was up to.

Of course, she chose that very moment to look up at me in that sideways fashion she had, and her own brown eyes were shimmering moistly as she reached for my hand in a gesture echoing the bride and groom's.

I closed my fingers around hers tightly, reaffirming the promise I had never actually spoken out loud but always done my best to honour.


	2. Chapter 2

Brian was leaning back in his chair lazily with the attitude of a worldly-wise businessman, and if it hadn't been for his age, I would have expected him to whip out a silver case and light himself a cigar any minute.

I thoroughly enjoyed having this chat with my nephew, who turned out to be an inquisitive, outgoing boy.

At first, he had cast the occasional curious glance at me from where he had been playing with some other young guests, then he risked a tentative grin, and when I smiled back, he had ventured over eventually and said, "Auntie Jess says you're my uncle. Are you really?"

After I had pointed out where exactly I belonged in the family tree, he kept asking loads of questions about where I had been and what I had done all this time.

"You've been in the war, too? Like my dad?" His face brightened when I briefly mentioned that, and his eyes assumed that eager sparkle most boys get when they sense a good adventurous story just around the corner. "Dad's been a lieutenant in the Air Force, you know, and he killed a whole lot of Japs, and once, he almost got shot down and …"

The last thing I wanted was talking about the war with an eight-year-old, so I said, "I'm sure your dad's a great guy and a hero, but let's not dive too deep into all that, okay? You needn't tell your dad I said that, but you know, I didn't particularly like being a soldier. "

Instead, I persuaded him to tell me a bit about himself and his family, and I learned that his dad was great at all kinds of repair work and played the trombone, and that his mom made the best apple pie and the best mash in the world but was really useless when it came to cars or baseball, and that Kevin was okay for a little kid of five but only as long as he didn't get all whiny and cranky.

I liked this eloquent, bright-eyed son of Janie's a lot, and the way he seemed to have no prejudices at all about this uncle who had popped up out of nowhere.

As opposed to his mother.

When Brian suddenly cast a nervous, stealthy look towards the French doors and froze, breaking off mid-sentence, I followed his gaze and realized that Janie was approaching us with wary eyes and a forced half-smile.

She, too, had grown into an attractive woman. She wasn't as tall or slim as Jess, nor did she look younger than her years the way Jess did.

Janie's beauty was of a more mature, womanly kind, with lovely curves and a pretty, perfectly made-up face that had retained its round shape but not the baby fat. Her hair was still naturally blond and curly and her eyes a bright periwinkle blue, but the ready grin and giggly disposition were gone.

She looked cool and detached as she told Brian to finally come back and play with his brother as he'd promised to do.

He pulled a face and went away, muttering sullenly to himself.

Janie waited until he had joined the other kids playing below tall trees before she spoke.

"So you're back."

She didn't look at me but stared at some spot beside my right ear.

"Uh … yes, I suppose I am. Sort of at least." I fell silent, unable to think of something appropriate to say.

The discomfort between us was tangible, almost physical, and when she spoke again, the disdain in her voice was unmistakable.

"Say, Mick – is it still Mick or do you go by Michael now? - what was it that made you remember you had two sisters after all this time, when you'd never bothered to get in touch before? The wisdom of age? Did having a child suddenly make you all touchy-feely about old family ties? Or is it because you need something? Money? Are you broke, maybe? Ah, no, probably not. That's a good suit you're wearing, and I'll bet your wife made a killing with that celebrated book of hers. Perhaps you're after some family heirloom to give to her?" She paused, but so briefly that I couldn't get a word in. "No, I know! You wanted to make a big entrance at Jess's wedding for everyone to see the prodigal son has finally come home, with your cute little daughter and your beautiful famous wife and your war-hero limp and cane."

I couldn't have been more startled if she had punched me in the stomach or doused me with a bucket of ice water.

Speechless and stunned by her scathing rant, I stared at her, breathing hard.

I raised a hand, not sure what gesture to make, and let it drop again.

She wouldn't want me to touch her, that much was certain.

If only I could find something disarming to tell her.

"Janie, I …"

"You what? You want me to break down crying at your feet like some sentimental teenage girl? You expect I'm ready to forgive you instantly for disappearing from my life just like that when I was five, not to be seen or heard of again in twenty _fucking _years, never even writing a letter or picking up a goddamn _phone?" _

I flinched at the swear words, which seemed awfully crude from her ladylike mouth and totally out of place with my little sister who had always been so sweet-natured.

She had averted her face, looking down at the grass, her jaw working, and I was sure she was trying to conceal angry tears.

I still didn't dare reach out for her. Instead, I said hoarsely, "I did try to get in touch, Janie."

She perked up and turned back to me, her eyes red, challenging me sullenly. "Are you saying that because it's what I want to hear?"

"No, Janie. Certainly not. Whatever I may have done wrong in my life, I've never been a liar." I gave her a pointed look, and she stared back, unblinking. "It's true that I tried for a long time. I wrote to you, but you never wrote back any more. I called, but it was always Dorothy who answered the phone and brushed me off. Or hung right up on me. I waited for a while, hoping that she'd get over it, then I tried again and again, until one day a stranger answered your number. Then I phoned Mrs. … what was she called, Mom's friend? Dawkins? Dawson? She said you'd moved away without even leaving your new address behind because Dan wanted to make a fresh start. All she knew that you'd gone to Virginia. Or maybe Vermont. Or somewhere completely different."

Janie looked at me with a mix of defiance, shock and disbelief, her mouth half opening as if to speak, but she remained silent.

I continued, "What should I have done with no address or any other clue where you had gone? I'm so, so sorry that I didn't try even harder, but I just didn't know where else to search, and eventually, I started telling myself you'd have lost faith in me anyway, not having heard of me for such a long time."

She tilted her head away once more, pressing her lips together tightly, and her eyes had that fixed stare again.

Her silence unnerved me, and I finally put my hand on her upper arm. "Janie … what is it now? What have I …"

She shook me off with an annoyed twitch of the shoulder. "I have nothing to say to you", she said coldly. "It's all just a load of crap, about not leaving an address behind and no one knowing where we'd gone. Aunt Dorothy went to see all of our old friends and neighbours to say goodbye and to give them our new address before we left."

That didn't square with what Jess had told me, but I could see what had happened there.

Janie, a gullible child, confused and lost after all the upheavals the accident had brought upon her family, had seen what she had been told to see and believed what she had been expected to believe.

"Did any of them ever call?" I asked. "Did any of them ever write, or come to see you?"

"I … no, I don't think they did... but then, Dad didn't care a lot about keeping in touch because he couldn't bear thinking too much about Mom, and well, Aunt Dorothy wasn't ... too close with …"

I felt sorry for her as she stammered and tried to maintain what she had taken to be true for such a long time, but I drove my point home anyway, well aware that it was kind of cruel.

"They never called because they never had your number! They never wrote because they didn't have an address to write to! Don't you see what that old witch …"

"Don't call her that!"

"She's got you well trained, I've got to give her that much!" I said bitterly. "But can you really not see what she did there? That she just wanted to make sure she had you under your thumb, without any harmful influence from me or Grandma and Grandpa or any old friends? She talked poor Dan into leaving and told him you should seize the chance to start over anew elsewhere, just so she could rule his life, and yours, and Jessie's."

She pursed her lips, barely pulling herself together, and took a deep loud breath before she sniffed, "Fine, so you've let off the steam of twenty years. Is that what you came here for? Are you feeling better now? Can I go back inside and have a conversation with someone who's not bent on making me miserable?"

"Janie, making you miserable is the last thing I want, can't you see that?" I pleaded. "Can't we just …"

But she had already turned on her heel and was marching off towards the French doors, her heels clicking an angry staccato.

"Suit yourself", I muttered angrily. I wanted to kick something, but I held back as not to make a fool of myself and spoil Jess's wedding. It was enough that Janie hated me.

I lit a cigarette instead and smoked it with a few hasty puffs, glowering at the door through which she had disappeared.

I was just about to light another when someone stepped up to me from behind and snatched it away and a voice I thought I'd heard before said, "Don't. They say it's bad for your health."

I looked up into a face that was utterly familiar, but it took me a second or two until I could put a name to it.

He stood, my cigarette in his hand, grinning and waiting, until the penny dropped.

"Leary!"

"Corporal Carpenter, sir!" He gave a little mock salute and grinned even more before he clapped me on the shoulder and asked, "So how have you been doing? I heard you ended up in Australia with a wife and kid, or so Jess tells me. Oh, and she told me about your leg, too." His face grew serious. "What a shame. I'm dreadfully sorry."

"Don't be. I'm okay, mostly. What about _your_ leg? Last time I saw you, one of your feet was pointing backwards."

"Okay, mostly." We both chuckled. "It's not quite the same as before, but it healed quickly enough for another round of fun in the pleasurable Pacific. Thank God it didn't go on for long after I went back. We had a pretty good celebration when we heard it was over."

"I'm afraid I missed out on the celebrations. I was still out cold at the time", I said a little sarcastically. "Anyway, great to see you. After all, it's you I've got to thank for helping Jess find me."

He appeared slightly embarrassed at that and quickly changed the subject, inquiring again about my work and my family.

I happily told him about Evelyn and Annie and some other things and was rather surprised just how much I enjoyed talking to one of my men from back then. It was incredibly uplifting to see at least one of my squad had come out of it alive and well.

Evelyn joined us a little later, and shortly after I had introduced them, Leary waved to an attractive, buxom blonde in a violet dress with a tight, low-cut bodice and a perky little hat.

"This is Charlene, my fiancée", he said as she came closer. "Charlene, this is Mick, Jess's brother, and Evelyn."

"Oh. Wow." She blushed prettily and shook our hands in apparent awe. "I absolutely adore your book", she told Evelyn. "And I love how it helped reunite Jess and … and you." She turned to me and smiled. "Gosh, it sounds so trite, but it was really like a movie, the way it all suddenly began to come together. It's so wonderful to meet you finally, and … oh my, I'm babbling, aren't I? Patrick?"

"Yes, you are!"

"Sorry. I guess I got carried away a little. But I was just so happy for Jess, and somehow for you, too, even if I didn't know you yet at the time. Uh, well, I guess I'm doing it again. Sorry. Evelyn, what do you think of leaving the boys to their war talk? I'd really love to ask you a question or two about your book, if you don't mind …"

Evelyn gave me a quick indulgent grin behind Charlene's back and followed her inside.

Patrick and I spent a long time talking until a dark-haired figure darted into view and almost knocked over a waist-high potted plant as he shot towards me and locked me in a bear hug.

"_Fishy!"_

"Jeez, Danny Boy! No one's ever called me that since I last saw you. What are _you_ doing here?"

We laughed as we slapped each other on the back. Never in a million years would I have expected Danny O'Riordan among the hundred or so guests.

"Friend of Oliver's", he said. "You're the brother of the bride, or so I've heard? Looking at you, I never would've thought you had such a pretty sister."

"You certainly haven't lost any of your charm, Danny."

Leary chimed in with a good-natured jibe about Danny's blind eye and the resulting mishap with the potted palm and in turn got called a lame old bastard. They both laughed raucously, but Danny broke off quickly and apologized to me. "Sorry, I guess that was tasteless, what with your …" He nodded at my leg.

"Oh, stop being so tactful, for heaven's sake. I'm the lamest of us all, that much is sure, and I can still take a joke or two."

We helped ourselves to drinks from a passing waiter's tray and headed for a group of wrought-iron chairs in the shade of a tree, all three of us glad to be together again after such a long time.

Being with them, talking of everything and nothing, was easy, straightforward, funny and so much more enjoyable than Janie's accusing looks, Aunt Dorothy's ostentatious contempt or the politely stilted conversation with some of the wedding guests I'd never seen before and probably would never see again.

We sat there for a long while, never running out of things to speak of, until someone admonished us to finally get back inside for dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

The band had just finished setting up their instruments in a corner of the hall and struck up a waltz.

Loud cheers and catcalls echoed through the room as Jess and Oliver stepped up and began to dance.

They were good at it, I realized immediately, graceful and light-footed, and they made me remember, with just the tiniest twinge in my chest, the time long gone by when I had been out dancing every chance that I got.

I was glad that Annie was sitting in my lap, raptly watching her new aunt and uncle. The familiar weight of her wiry little body was something firm and real to hold on to, and I gratefully hid my face, whose expression I couldn't quite control, behind her chestnut curls.

The waltz ended to a tremendous roar of applause. Jess took a gracious and slightly ironic bow, while Oliver flung out an arm, inviting everyone to join them for the next dance, and led his mother off for the next dance.

Jess threw me a questioning look across the room, and I shook my head almost imperceptibly. She gave a quick nod and chose Vincent, Oliver's brother, instead.

Most of the guests at our table headed for the dance floor, and even Annie scrambled off my lap and scampered away in search of the other kids she had been playing with earlier. They were soon bouncing about happily between the grown-up dancers, having a jolly good time.

A couple of songs later, Vincent asked Evelyn gallantly if she wanted to dance.

"Well, sure", she replied, appearing a little surprised but not entirely averse to the idea.

Nevertheless, Vincent hesitated and turned to me as if he felt the need to ask for my permission.

I brushed his compunctions aside with a casual wave of my hand and said lightly, "Go on, I don't mind. Really. My dancing days are done, but that needn't worry you."

I watched them walk off but looked somewhere else purposefully as soon as they began to dance in earnest.

It wasn't that I had any issues seeing her in the arms of another man, not at all. Jealousy wasn't among my numerous flaws, and I certainly had no hard feelings about Evelyn dancing with Jess's brother-in-law. He was a nice guy, and happily married, too.

It was not about feeling left out either, sitting in a corner by myself while all the others milled about the dance floor. I had stayed on the sidelines for most of my life because I wanted to and actually appreciated getting a break from all the pleasant, charming small talk and all those people. Large crowds had never particularly appealed to me.

But there was one thing that suddenly bothered me a lot more than I would have expected.

I knew that this dance should rightfully have been mine, and I knew I could not have taken Vincent's place, even if I wanted to.

I loosened my tie and leaned back in my chair, stretched out my legs and tried to think of something else, hoping I wasn't looking too depressed in the middle of my sister's wedding.

Brian spied me from where he was trying, rather unsuccessfully, to move in time with the music, and came walking over. He took the chair Evelyn had vacated and belatedly asked, "Can I sit with you awhile?"

"Sure you can."

He looked at me for a silent moment with his curious, questioning eyes and asked, "Why are you sitting there all alone, um, Uncle Mick?" He was rolling the unfamiliar words round his tongue tentatively, and I gave him a wry look and a crooked smile, feeling flattered that he appeared quite partial to this uncle popping up out of nowhere. "Why aren't you dancing with … Auntie Evelyn?"

His earnest eyes wandered on to the cane leaning against the next chair, and he blushed as he answered his question himself. "Oh. Yeah. Sure." He swallowed a couple of times and clutched the sides of his seat, obviously trying hard not to squirm with embarrassment.

"Well spotted, that's why", I said quietly. "It's okay. Just a bit of a souvenir from the war."

"The one you don't like talking about?"

"The very same."

He nodded very solemnly and seemed at a loss for words, so I asked, "And why aren't you dancing?"

"I'm crap at it!" It sounded rather desperate.

"Nah, you're not."

"I am! Melissa said so!"

"Who's Melissa?"

"Her over there." He pointed out a somewhat mean-looking big girl in a frilly frock whose hem was an inch too short and made knobby knees show, like she had grown too fast after it had been bought. "She says Becky's never going to dance with me because I'm so bad at it. That's Becky, in the blue dress."

"Wow, she's pretty."

"Yes, isn't she?" His face assumed an otherworldly glow for a moment which quickly dissipated as he seemed to remember his shortcomings on the dance floor and sighed.

"Brian … have you asked her at all?"

"No!" He looked horrified.

"Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, mate. Why don't you go and give it a try?"

He went beet red in the face and swallowed hard, but he hurried off towards her obediently, and I couldn't help grinning when I watched him trying to put his hands in the right places in imitation of the grown-up dancers.

After two more songs, Evelyn came back from the dance floor, flushed and a little out of breath.

"Tired already?" I asked, striving for an inconspicuous tone.

"Quite. I'm not much of a dancer, remember?" She sat down beside me and went on, "I just said yes to please Vincent. He's very nice, just like Oliver. Jess made a good choice there, I daresay."

"Yes, I agree. He's a good guy. He's – whoa there! Careful, Annie!" From the corner of my eye, I saw a little white figure streaking towards me at full speed, just so avoiding a collision with Evelyn's chair. "Are you having fun, sweetie?"

She nodded eagerly, curls flying. She looked adorably disheveled – she had lost her circlet of greens long before, and her cheeks were bright pink with excitement.

She drained half a glass of water at one go, beamed at me and demanded, "Now dance with me, Daddy!"

"Annie … I don't think that's a good idea."

Her face fell in utter disappointment.

I stroked her cheek and said, "Don't be sad. It's not that I don't want to, sweetie. Who wouldn't want to dance with you! It's just that I … can't. Not any more. Like I can't run. You know why, don't you?"

She nodded, but her lower lip twitched dangerously.

Evelyn gave me a reproachful look over Annie's head and suggested, "Why don't you dance with _me_ for now? And maybe you can dance with Uncle Oliver later. What do you think about that?"

Annie wasn't quite convinced, but she agreed anyway, and off they went.

I knew what Evelyn was thinking, namely that it would have been no skin off my nose if I had granted Annie her little wish, and I couldn't deny there was some truth to it. I wouldn't have needed to do much more than hold her hands and let her hop around a bit.

I also knew that once I showed up on the dance floor, Jess's lovely friends would start asking me for a dance, or Oliver's mother would, or someone would demand that Evelyn and I dance, encouraging us to try something slow at least, reassuring me it wouldn't matter what it looked like, that it needn't be perfect.

But I would have wanted it to be perfect, just like Rosie had taught me all these years ago.

I'd never dance again, not properly, not the way I used to, easily and instinctively, allowing the moment and the music to carry me away. That was over for good.

I had learned to accept a great many imperfections in my life, but if I couldn't dance perfectly, I'd rather not do it at all.

For a long time after the war, I had not even been able to feel music any more. No matter what I listened to, it did not elicit anything but the faintest sense of approval or dislike, and most often, not even that.

I had thought it was one of the numerous things that had been lost along with the leg and were a mere bittersweet memory now, but when I had led Jess into the packed church this afternoon and the organist began his beautiful processional, my heart had taken a funny leap and started to beat a little faster.

The beautifully sentimental version of _Cheek to Cheek_ the fine little band was playing now hit me just as hard and catapulted me back into the past.

How often had I listened to that tune on my crackling gramophone, on many lonely evenings in my island home, or heard it in one of many, many bars during my travels around the globe?

I could almost hear Evelyn's voice in my mind, saying what she always said when I got all too nostalgic.

_Don't go down that road._

I rose abruptly and made my way towards the French doors at the opposite end of the long table.

I had to get out for a moment, get some fresh air, smoke a cigarette in solitude and silence.

Jess appeared to relish every single minute of her wedding, and I was happy that she did, but for me, it had been a long day, and a demanding day, too. Large parties had always been quite a chore to me, with all the talking and smiling and behaving like you enjoyed yourself even though there were way too many people and way too little space for me to be comfortable.

I had loved talking to Patrick and Danny, and I had actually enjoyed meeting some of Jess's friends and having a long chat with Oliver's mother, an exuberant, lively woman with her hair dyed raven-black and piled up artfully on top of her head, but I wouldn't have minded leaving rather sooner than later now.

Feeling drained, I pushed open one of the white doors. Golden light spilled from the opening into the dark garden of tall trees behind the hall, and I went outside, gratefully inhaling the warm, fragrant, clean air of a splendid summer night.

I fumbled for my cigarettes and lighter in the pockets of my jacket, then took a deep first drag and leaned against the wall, slowly blowing out the smoke through my nose and mouth and closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind, blocking out the music that was distant but still well audible behind the brightly lit windows.

I turned my head and peered in through the windowpane. Dan was in my immediate line of sight, a stooped, shrunken little man whose suit seemed way too big for him.

At church, I'd had to look twice to recognize my stepfather and was still startled how he had aged. He couldn't be a lot over sixty, but his appearance was that of a very old man, with sallow skin and thin colourless wisps of hair surrounding a bald pate. He had looked as if he could barely keep himself upright, his face drawn and impassive even though he tried to smile.

Part of it might be due to his illness – Jess had mentioned that he hadn't been in good health for a long while – but from what she had also told me, I assumed that his eyes had lost their shine much earlier.

He was sitting listlessly at an otherwise deserted table, staring blankly ahead. His mind didn't seem to be here at all.

A formidable figure sailed into view, tall and thin and angular, with the rigid back and long sharp nose and pinched mouth I remembered all too well, dressed in severe charcoal with an old-fashioned brooch pinned to her chest.

"Old crow", I muttered disdainfully. "Evil old witch."

How I hated her for making Jess and Janie's lives a misery. And I didn't think she had been good for Dan either.

I wondered why he had allowed this dreadful woman to conquer his home like that. Guilt and grief about the fatal car crash that claimed my mother's life must have compromised his judgment. That and the need to have someone take care of the girls while he was recuperating slowly.

He had never married her, which she had probably been hoping for, but she had her hooks in him nevertheless. They were living under the same roof to this day, where she had apparently settled into a permanent role of nurse and housekeeper.

No wonder that he looked such a wreck.

I had spoken to Dan after church, but it had been clear to see that he felt uneasy about meeting me even after all these years.

When Dorothy approached, her steely eyes shooting poisonous flashes into my direction, I had taken his bony, mottled hand into both of mine, trying to convey with a long firm handshake what I had trouble putting into words, especially with Dorothy listening.

I hoped it had sufficed to make him understand I bore him no grudge. Having spent half his life in Dorothy's presence, grieving for my mother, was punishment enough, I thought wryly as I watched her fussing about him dutifully, her face sour and mirthless as always.

She had been careful to avoid me all through the day, and I knew from Jess that she had at first refused to attend the wedding altogether when she had heard I would be the one to lead her down the aisle.

I would have liked to give her a piece of my mind at some point, and all it would have taken was to walk back inside and seize the opportunity while most everyone else was busy dancing, but it was not the right time and place for this kind of reckoning.

Turning away from the window, grinding out my cigarette butt with my heel, and gazed up into the starry skies to search for the familiar old constellations Grandpa had once taught me to find – the evening star, the Big Dipper, Orion, the Pleiades.

The volume of the music suddenly swelled as someone opened the door, but I didn't turn around, hoping whoever had just walked outside wouldn't notice me in the shadows.

"So that's where you are."

Evelyn.

"I needed a smoke", I said without looking at her.

From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was smiling wryly as she said, "You could have smoked in there. Lots of people are smoking." She touched the nape of my neck with a fleeting hand. "But ... it can get awfully stuffy inside, can't it?"

She leaned her head upon my shoulder and looked up at the stars with me in silent unity. Even the music had stopped.

It was one of those moments when, for a blissful, short span of time, everything is perfect.

Until a pulsating rhythm struck me right in the pit of my stomach.

I couldn't immediately place it or say why it did this to me, but when the singer intoned the first verse with an achingly intense voice, I knew.

I closed my eyes and couldn't suppress a sharp intake of breath and a shiver running down my spine.

_It brings back a night of tropical splendour  
>It brings back a memory ever green<br>_

Evelyn also tensed beside me, but only for a second.

Then she stood before me in her dress of shimmering golden-brown silk, loosely wrapped her bare arms around my neck and whispered, "Can I have this dance, Mr. Carpenter?"

"I'm not su-"

"Shhhh." She brushed my lips with the tip of her finger and kissed me very softly. "You can do this."

_To live it again is past all endeavour  
>Except when that tune clutches my heart<br>_

She took me by the hands and began to move her hips and torso, sensually, gracefully, to the sweet wistful tune that carried treasured memories of intimacy, closeness, of our first dance that had also remained our last and only dance, a physical encounter that had been tentative and a little awkward at the start and later, as we found our harmony, gently passionate and infinitely tender.

I joined her in the movement, haltingly at first with my feet remaining in place, then, growing bolder, I tried a bit of footwork, too, putting my left foot forward first and dragging the other leg along, as I lightly leaned on Evelyn for balance.

It worked surprisingly well, and we got into the rhythm rather fast, just as we had that only other time.

We certainly wouldn't have won any beauty contest, at least not on my part, but it was incredibly, indescribably wonderful to dance with her again, alone despite a hundred wedding guests close by, with just the stars and a sliver of moon in a deep black sky watching.

_Till the stars that were there before return above you  
>Till you whisper to me once more, 'Darling, I love you!'<br>And we suddenly know  
>What heaven we're in<br>When they begin the beguine_

Her forehead on my cheek, her body so close to mine, both our hearts beating with excitement and surprise, we stood still in a wordless embrace after the music had ended.

After the dance had ended.

A dance that had been perfect in its own imperfect way.


End file.
